


Field of Innocence

by Ophelia_Black



Series: Midzel Week 2020 [3]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, midzel week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophelia_Black/pseuds/Ophelia_Black
Summary: A blizzard hits central Hyrule while the Twilight Queen visits, and Midna is determined to recreate one of Zelda’s fondest memories.Written for Midzel Week 2020. Prompt: Storms
Relationships: Midna/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Midzel Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980200
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Field of Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be posted one week ago, but I only wrote it yesterday so you're getting it now! If I had written this back in 2011 I would have made it a songfic, so sometimes it's better to get things later  
> This is the first time I have ever written pure fluff, I hope you like it :)

“It’s going to snow soon.”

Midna glances over to see Zelda peering up at the sky, her expression studious. She’s not certain how she came to this conclusion, however, for the sky is completely cloudless, a clear blue only a shade paler than her eyes. “Well, it’s winter, isn’t it? Of course it’s going to snow at some point.”

She shakes her head, still gazing upwards. “Yes, but I mean in the next day or two. It smells cold, doesn’t it? _And_ the wind is picking up, _and_ there was a halo around the moon last night.”

“It _smells_ cold? What, feeling cold isn’t good enough? I think you’re making this up to mess with me,” she laughs. Zelda does not join in, but she finally lowers her gaze.

“There are some books that I have been expecting at a bookstore in Castle Town. If they are not in today, they’ll be delayed by the weather. How about we go see if they’ve arrived?” Midna scrutinizes her face, but as ever, she gives nothing away, and she agrees to join her and go into town.

Castle Town, to her surprise, is abuzz with activity when the two queens make their way onto the main road. Every merchant has a long line before them, and the customers all speak with an unusual urgency, huddled together with their arms full of their purchases. Midna frowns, concerned, but Zelda is perfectly calm as they pick their way through the crowd towards the bookstore. The Hylians fall silent and step aside with a bow as their ruler and her royal guest approach, only to reconvene as they pass. She catches snatches of their conversations, and it’s enough to make her groan, and Zelda stifles a laugh.

Every one of them is discussing the snowstorm to come, and the preparations to be made before it hits.

The store is nearly empty when they reach it, and now Zelda allows her amusement to bubble out. “Still don’t believe me?” Fortunately, there are few distractions more enticing to the young queen than the promise of new reading material, and before Midna has the chance to return a sour remark, she is happily directed to the shopkeeper to collect her package. She speaks no more of the oncoming weather as they return to the castle, sufficiently preoccupied with her books.

As the day marches on, so too does the steady cover of clouds, pure white and hanging so low in the sky that Midna feels as though the gods were smothering her. The birds fall silent, huddled close together in their branches, and the Hylians in town scramble to complete their business and return home before being snowed in. By sundown, the first flakes begin to fall, and when Zelda turns to her, she braces herself for more teasing smugness. It’s what she would do, certainly, but as ever, Zelda is more gentle, more mature than she could ever be. “Will you stay with me? Just for one more night?”

How can she refuse?

The queen of Hyrule had taken no king, though she certainly does not lack for offers, but as the years passed, the castle staff grew wise enough to make no remark whenever the Twilight Queen came to visit _again_. Eventually, Zelda dispensed with the illusion of having separate rooms prepared for her guest, a decision met with no surprise at all, only the mild satisfaction of having one fewer task to perform. Tonight, the pair make their way to their chambers, and every step of the way is as familiar to Midna as her own palace. A pair of guards stand at the end of the hallway, and as they pass, both queens are bid good night with a satisfying mundanity.

They flow through their bedtime routine with automatic motions, Zelda chattering about her new books with the unrestrained enthusiasm she reveals only to her. Midna takes care to close the heavy drapes over the windows before climbing into bed, holding her arms open so that Zelda can settle into them. She has just enough time to pull the quilt around them both before being drawn into a kiss, long and slow and increasingly sleepy.

Finally, they pull apart, if only a few inches, and Midna strokes Zelda’s cheek with a long finger. “I can’t keep coming back to Hyrule,” she tells her, as she does every night. “It’s too dangerous to leave the Mirror intact, I cannot neglect my duty any longer.”

The words used to leave Zelda pale-faced and stricken, pleading for Midna to stay just a little bit longer, just one more day. Now, she only nods, her response so muffled by drowsiness that Midna only understands it for having heard it said so many times. “Of course. I shall miss you terribly, but please do what you must.”

In truth, she isn’t certain what purpose the charade serves, as even the proudest of her advisors had long ago ceded that there was a part of their queen who forever belonged to the world of light, that she would always be drawn back to it one way or another. Her claim had originally been that she would keep in contact with her sister kingdom just long enough to see them back on their feet, but like the untouched guest bedroom in Hyrule Castle, the excuse had been shed long ago. She used to mean every word with the very gravest sincerity, but Midna no longer feels any guilt to assuage, any fear to tame. Yet she continues with her ritual, and her partner continues to oblige her. “I am glad that I’ve been able to spend this time with you, at least. I will always treasure that.”

Zelda yawns, and snuggles into her neck. “I love you too,” she mumbles, and no matter how many times she hears the words, or sees the sweet little smile that follows, they never fail to make her heart flutter as though they were brand new. Midna kisses her forehead, and when Zelda makes a pleased hum in response, she knows she could never abandon her. The wind howls around the castle throughout the night, shaking the windows and slipping a bitter draft through the minute cracks in the stone, but they sleep soundly, warm and safe in each other’s embrace.

The next day dawns hideously bright, as ever, but brighter still is Zelda’s triumphant grin as she peers through the gap between the drapes. “It did snow, I told you it would!” she crows, scrambling out of bed for a better look, only to yelp as her bare feet hit the cold stone floor. Undeterred, she wrenches apart the curtains, and Midna buries her face into the pillow to shield against the morning light for just a minute longer. “Oh goddess,” she hears Zelda gasp, “it snowed quite a lot.”

With a sleepy groan, Midna drags herself from the plush comfort of their bed, and looks out the window as well. There had been snow on the ground the previous day, dingy and patchy and half turned to slush, yet the scene before her is pristine. From the height of the half-buried statues in the gardens, at least two feet had fallen overnight, though it was hard to see that far through the thick clumps of flakes that continue to float downwards in Hyrule’s bizarre reverse snowfall.

At her side, Zelda had begun twirling a lock of hair around her finger, deep in thought. “It does not look like this will let up soon. The roads are dangerous with visibility so low, I will have to close the castle to visitors if it gets any worse.” She gives Midna a sideways glance. “Of course, you’re free to leave any time you like, dearest. Please do not let me keep you.”

Midna shakes her head. “It’s cold out, and with the castle closed, you can get away with taking the day off. I’m going back to bed, and I hope that you’ll join me.” She turns and pulls back the covers, but Zelda remains at the window a moment longer.

“Tempting as that is, I want to go outside!” She spins away from the window and goes into her closet, returning half a minute later with an armful of heavy winter clothing. She drops the pile onto the bed and begins to dress, and Midna regretfully gets back to her feet.

“What makes snow so exciting? You don’t normally care about the weather this much.”

Zelda pauses to consider the question, her foot halfway through a long woolen sock. “I always loved snowstorms as a girl. I’d run around the grounds for hours until I was frozen to the bone, then I’d come inside and take off all my wet clothes and put on dry ones. Then I’d sit before a fire to thaw out, and my Mama would make tea. She wouldn’t ask a servant to do it, she’d brew it herself just for me.” She smiles, gentle and wistful. “Perhaps it’s silly, but it made me feel… warm, and safe, and loved. I miss feeling that way.”

“Do… you not feel that way now? I love you, I really do, I hope you know that,” Midna says, concerned, reaching out to take her hand. But Zelda only smiles and shakes her head, squeezing her hand in return.

“Of course I do,” she insists. “I do know that, and I cherish you above all else. I only meant, well, it’s a different sort of love, isn’t it? When you’re a child and you’re certain that nothing could ever hurt you so long as your mother is protecting you, opposed to being here with you, when we’ve been through so much hurt and carried each other through it?” Midna does understand, all too well, the way that innocent hands grasp for love and safety and comfort with a different urgency than battle-scarred hands, than weary hearts trying to build a new home in each other. No, there is nothing she can do to make Zelda feel like a carefree child again, but she does have the next best thing.

“We can still do that, Zelda. We can still go play in the snow and dry off in front of the fire, we can do it just how you remembered it. And it won’t feel the same, you’re right, but I hope it’ll feel good enough.”

And so it is that they find themselves standing at the main doors of Hyrule Castle, cracked open just wide enough to slip outside into the still-falling snow. Twili do not experience temperature the way that humans do, so despite Zelda’s fretting over her inadequate clothing as she had piled layer after layer onto herself, Midna wears only her whisper-thin shadow clothes beneath her regular cloak and skirt. It is cold outside, to be sure, though the air lacks the bite that Snowpeak had all those years ago, where even the act of breathing had burned her nose.

The other difference from the mountains, she is surprised to learn, is the very texture of the snow itself, different from the fluffy powder she had encountered before. There is the same thin layer of ice on the surface, resisting just enough to fool her into thinking it will hold her weight before her feet come crashing through with a crunch and a muffled thump, but the snow beneath is now wet and heavy and packs together beneath her. Bending down, she scoops up a handful, squeezing it experimentally in her palm and feeling it compress into a tight, icy clump. She drops it, and watches it land in the snow, leaving a clean hole where it had passed through the top layer.

Zelda reaches out to her with a gloved hand, and once she takes it, they set off.

The grounds are blanketed in a perfectly even coat of white, and with the snow still coming down quickly, the staff had not yet bothered to dig channels from the myriad of servant’s entrances and guard positions, let alone along the long patrol routes. The ghost of the previous night’s howling gale still tugs at the falling flakes, whipping them around in all directions until the world becomes little more than a white oblivion. The grounds that normally teem with castle staff, visitors, and soldiers are perfectly empty, and Midna savors the impression that she and her beloved queen are completely alone in the world. It seems almost a shame to desecrate such a pristine landscape, and the effort it takes to do so is fittingly significant as they plow forward together.

It does not take long, however, for her to grow bored of trudging through the blank whiteness, and she reaches down for another handful of snow and squeezes it together again… and throws the resulting wad at Zelda. It breaks apart on contact, leaving a dusting of white where it had hit her shoulder. She turns slowly, eyes wide with surprise and betrayal, before a wicked grin splits her face. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she taunts, bending down to form a snowball of her own. Standing only a couple feet away, she doesn’t bother to throw it, but reaches over to slap it against Midna’s cloak, the thin fabric immediately soaking through.

She takes off running before her partner can retaliate, her skirts held up above her knees, the fabric bunched up in one fist, and her cloak fluttering behind her. It’s an ungainly stride through the deep snow, but Midna fares no better, and runner and pursuer alike gain no ground on the other. When one stops to scrape together a snowball, so does the other, and despite having the advantage of growing up in a world that actually has snow, Zelda’s ammunition falls apart as often as her competitor’s in her haste. Midna manages to get one shot underneath Zelda’s cloak, and she shrieks as the resulting slush falls down the back of her neck and into her dress. Silently, Midna declares herself the winner, despite being well-coated in the icy proof that Zelda has the stronger arm and better aim.

Worn out from running through the deep drifts, she flops to the ground, the snow compacting around her into a frozen chair that’s almost more comfortable than her own unyielding throne. She leans back until she lays down entirely, and with her head pressed against the snow she can hear the new flakes land, their muffled plops only slightly louder than her heartbeat. She lays for a time, resting in the frozen silence, listening to the snowfall.

The crunching of footsteps is nearly deafening in comparison as they approach, and her view of the pearly sky is obscured by Zelda’s beaming face when she falls to her knees at her side. Her damp hair straggles across her forehead, well spackled with clumps of snowflakes, and her cheeks, nose, and ears are all bright pink with cold. Her lips are cold, too, when she leans down for a kiss, but Midna pulls her closer all the same, sinking deeper into the snow with her added weight. It stifles all sound and blocks all sight until there’s nothing left in the world but the woman above her, nothing but the skin that grows warmer pressed against hers, the eyes sparkling with adoration, the lips that seek hers so insistently. “I love you,” Midna tells her, when Zelda draws back to steal a breath, and she laughs before leaning in for more, responding in kind in murmurs against her lips. No, there is nothing in the world but her, and there is nothing more that she could possibly ask for.

Eventually, even the warmth of the queen’s embrace is not enough to stave off the biting cold, and though Midna offers to warp the pair back to Zelda’s chambers, she refuses, insisting that the frozen trudge back to the castle is part of the experience. They rise to their feet, and in clothing stiff with ice the return journey is even more taxing than their race through the deep drifts. Zelda tugs her partner along by the hand, and with a keen sense for the limits of Midna’s patience, she knows exactly when to look back and throw her a bright grin to stave off the growing desire to abandon their slog and warp inside anyway. Indeed, the relief to finally pass through the castle doors is all the more immense for the effort it took to reach them, and it is only when Midna admits as much that Zelda agrees that they need not continue the rest of the way on foot.

Once they rematerialize in their bedroom, Zelda spares only a glance around to ensure they are alone before beginning to shed her clothing. The woolen layers were heavy enough before being soaked through and frozen, and her numb fingers struggle with the laces and buttons, but Midna’s offer to expedite the process with magic is once again rebuffed. “Believe me, I normally like watching you take your clothes off, but this is just sad,” she teases, and Zelda laughs.

“Come here and help me, then, I seem to recall you enjoying that as well.” Midna obliges, though when they finally manage to get down to bare skin and she presses a kiss to an exposed patch as she normally might, she recoils at her lover’s cold and clammy flesh. Despite their teasing, it’s far from an appealing task, but the desire to help recreate Zelda’s precious memories is enough to make her persevere. When the last item of clothing finally falls to the floor with a wet plop, Zelda sighs with relief, and rushes to pull on her thickest nightgown. Midna takes advantage of her distraction to vanish her own outfit, and it is not until she agrees to augment her shadow clothing with a borrowed dressing gown that Zelda forgives her for sidestepping the manual process.

Eager hands drag her into the sitting room, where a roaring blaze springs to life in the fireplace with a wave of Zelda’s hand before she collapses onto a plush chaise lounge before the hearth. A tea tray had been sent up to the queen that morning, as one is every morning, and Midna places the kettle over the fire as she had watched servants do a hundred times over. Several minutes later, Zelda makes half-hearted noises of protest when the kettle screeches and Midna casts aside their blanket to pour the water over what she hopes is the right amount of tea leaves. She accepts the offered cup with a smile, though doesn’t dare to test the boiling drink as Midna settles back in at her side.

“So, was today as nice as you remember?”

Zelda considers the question in that ponderous, methodical way of hers, though for once her partner is content to wait patiently. “I had fewer concerns as a child, obviously. I had more energy, fewer eyes on me, and few responsibilities. I was happy enough…” Her eyes flick upwards, and they look a thousand years old, as they so often do. She leans forward, carefully placing her tea on the table, untouched. “But I was alone. I played in the snow by myself and I sat by the fire by myself, and now I get to spend my days with you. Today was better than I remembered, Midna. You’re far too good to me.”

In an instant, Midna’s arms are thrown around her, and it isn’t until Zelda laughs in her ear that she realizes how dreadfully predictable the move had been for her to have put her cup down in anticipation. All the same, she only tightens her grip further, and when Zelda begins whispering sweet nonsense to her, she restrains herself from drawing back and teasing her for being such a romantic sap. After a few minutes, however, Midna can feel the lips at her ear curl into a smile, and realizes that this, too, was an obvious move that she had played right into. “I love you,” she responds, wishing she had stronger words to describe the weight and depth of her devotion, the joy of knowing that a woman like Zelda exists, and could possibly be hers. They fail to come to her, but from the way that Zelda squeezes her closer, they’re good enough.

Finally, Zelda pulls away and takes a sip of tea. Her face twists for a split second before she composes herself, and Midna remembers far too late that the servants usually add cream and sugar as well. Before she can offer an apology, however, she looks her carefully in the eyes and takes a large, unladylike gulp, before placing the cup daintily back on the table. “I am glad that we were able to enjoy ourselves. Especially when this is your last day in Hyrule, I hope you remember it fondly,” she says, a sly grin spreading across her face.

Midna nods. “I will. I can’t keep coming here.”

“Of course.” She doesn’t continue through the rest of the ritual, sitting quietly instead and gazing into the fire. Midna is content to let her, sliding an arm around Zelda’s waist and smiling when she leans her head against her shoulder. Her hair is still damp and hopelessly tangled, but the fire and the dry clothing had warmed her, and the contact is deeply comforting. Zelda sips her bitter tea, and Midna presses kisses to the top of her head, and when they speak it is of nothing of importance, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other’s company.

They sit together until the flames burn low and the sky darkens outside, and the moon paints the snow a silvery-blue not unlike Midna’s own skin, and the blue light in the darkness makes her think of her palace, makes her feel at home. When the night grows so dark that even she can no longer see the snow continuing to fall in the blackness, and the logs had crumbled to embers, Zelda twists in her grasp to kiss to her cheek. “Will you stay with me for one more night, my love?” She speaks with the same stiff formality that she employs when holding court, but when Midna looks at her, she sees that she’s being teased.

One more night. Midna had already agreed to several years of one more night, and would agree to as many more of them as Zelda would ask of her. She nods, completely enraptured by the smiling beauty before her. How could she possibly refuse her queen? 


End file.
